


puer delicatus

by Cerberusia



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Age Difference, M/M, Pederasty, Power Dynamics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-13
Updated: 2017-12-20
Packaged: 2018-03-22 18:51:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3739654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cerberusia/pseuds/Cerberusia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So Levi Ackerman is eleven, just on the cusp of puberty; an unprepossessing child in both looks and personality, and so overlooked as a potential catamite by most.</p>
<p>Erwin is infatuated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> As you can see, I am cheerfully ignoring ACWNR and probably various bits of the manga, on which I am not yet fully caught up. So this is a pre-canon AU involving Erwin and Levi meeting much sooner than they actually did, and the shenanigans that ensue.

God, but the Captain's adopted son is a sulky one. Eleven years old and already deeply jaded - well, that's what having Kaney Ackerman as a guardian will do to you. But married to a child's obstinacy, it's not just irritating, it's _maddening_. At this rate Erwin's going to have to become a fugitive from justice, because he'll have throttled Kaney's son to death.

Alternatively, he'll have done something else to the boy which will also make him a wanted man. For Erwin is a man of specific tastes: in paperwork, in tea, and in boys. The general consensus is that boys are at their most beautiful at twelve or thirteen, when they attain that transient pubertal glow just before they tip over the edge into oily awkwardness.

Erwin prefers the stage just before this. Young though he is, he still keeps to the old beliefs that a liaison with a pretty boy should teach the boy something - and not just how to suck cock. It's meant to be a mentorship bond, a learning experience. That's why he prefers to pluck his fruit a little less ripe: the earlier you catch promise, the better you may shape it.

So Levi Ackerman is eleven, just on the cusp of puberty; an unprepossessing child in both looks and personality, and so overlooked as a potential catamite by most. Erwin sees in him the same marks of greatness as are found in Kaney - along with an enchanting tilt of the head which implies that he knows better than 'Old Man Erwin' (who is in fact the youngest officer in the Garrison) but cannot be bothered to explain to him his fatal error.

Erwin is infatuated. When Levi joins the officers at meals, Erwin always makes room next to himself for a skinny eleven year old to fit; he prefers not to be disturbed while working, but his door is always open for footsteps too light to be an adult's. He idly fantasises improbable scenarios in which Levi ends up sitting in his lap.

It's all but impossible to trick Levi: growing up in the slums has given the boy the danger sense of an alley cat, and reflexes to match. Besides, if Erwin wants a working relationship with Levi after this - which is the main object of the exercise - he has to base it on trust. He has to get Levi to trust him - which, given his aforementioned feline tendencies, is no easy task. Usually boys can be tempted with sweets and pretty things and flattery; Levi is weak to these things, but like the cat, he gets close only to take the offering, then swiftly makes off with his prize.

But it’s a place to start. Levi has quickly developed an appreciation for the finer things in life, particularly tea, a drink which most children his age find palatable only with copious milk and honey but Levi takes black. So Erwin invites him to take tea with him. After eyeing him up and down, Levi accepts. He relaxes into the armchair: Erwin has put in extra cushions so he can do that without ending up horizontal, but his legs still don’t quite reach the floor.

“I remember that you don’t take honey in yours,” he says when Levi raises an eyebrow at the lack of honey jug on the tea tray. “Since I don’t either, I thought I wouldn’t waste it.” Erwin knows that Levi despises waste.

Body relaxed but eyes watchful, Levi shrugs and waits for Erwin to pour.

They make small talk about Levi’s studies, which he seems to take quite seriously, though Erwin knows he’s not much of a reader. Levi’s trying to work out Erwin’s hidden agenda the whole time, he can just tell, and Erwin lets him try to read his body. He doesn't keep a poker face, though he has an excellent one: he just lets his genuine interest in Levi's mind show. Interest in his body can wait. 

Erwin invites him back the next week, and Levi accepts again. It takes seven visits for Levi to finish his tea, lean back in his chair still full of cushions, and say: 

"So what's this actually about?" 

"Can't I just be interested in the development of a future soldier?" 

Levi snorts. 

"Pretty ballsy to assume you'll still be alive when I get into the corps, old man. And I hear that I should be worried about just which part of my 'development' you're taking an interest in." He looks like he expects Erwin to deny all sexual interest.

“You needn’t be worried at all, Levi,” he says instead. “Naturally, I wouldn’t let my attentions inconvenience you.”

Levi squints at him, looking deeply suspicious.

“What are you offering?” His hand is near his knife. Erwin wonders if it’s conscious.

“Personal attention,” he says. “The sort of mentoring relationship you will have seen older boys getting into with their elders.”

“Fucking the superiors for favours.” Levi doesn’t put any particular unfamiliar adolescent emphasis on the swearword. Not a nice boy.

“I like to think there’s more to it than that,” says Erwin, instead of taking Levi up on his gutter mouth. “It was created as an institution to give cadets older, more experienced mentors in the military. The older partner is supposed to guide the younger’s moral and tactical education; the younger to be accommodating.”

At the word ‘tactical’, Levi’s eyebrows had raised, just a little. Yes, Erwin had thought that would be the hook. Here’s something Levi wants more than soft clothes and fancy sweets.

“Keep talking, old man.”

“I think you’re clever and ambitious,” says Erwin bluntly. “I want to nurture your obvious talent by lending my own expertise.”

“You’re nineteen.”

“And already an officer, with every expectation of being promoted within the next year. My ultimate aim is to become commander of the Survey Corps.”

“And what do I have to do in return, to get this _expertise_?” At that, Erwin knows he’s got him. Levi’s good, very good, but still unsophisticated. The way children ought to be, perhaps.

“Indulge me. Be cooperative, pay attention to what I teach you, come sit on my lap when I ask without making too much of a fuss.”

“And by ‘sit on my lap’, you mean…?” Levi raises his eyebrows suggestively. All the other eleven year olds Erwin knows would be giggling and shy.

“For now, I do just mean ‘sit on my lap’. I may embrace or kiss you in private. Other sexual favours may be negotiated at a later date, but won’t impact the basics of our agreement.”

“What, like-” Levi stands up and walks around the table to Erwin, and, hands on the arms of the chair, delicately lowers himself to straddle Erwin’s thighs, “-this?”

“Yes, but I was actually thinking more like _this_.” Erwin gently pushes Levi out of his lap, then pulls him back in sideways so his skinny bottom is on Erwin’s thighs and his coltish legs are over the armrest. “This way we can both get work done,” he explains.

Levi stares up at him for a long moment. Erwin contemplates the striations in his sharp grey irises, and how his current expression makes him look particularly feline.

“Fine,” Levi announces. “I’ll take it.”

Erwin finally gives in to the temptation to curl his arm around Levi’s narrow waist and press his face into his hair. Levi is so _small_.

“I won’t give you reason to regret it,” he vows. Levi snorts, not unkindly, and lets Erwin cuddle him.

Highly adaptable as ever, Levi takes to their new arrangement easily. They have two hours together in the afternoon or evening, depending on when Kaney doesn’t need Levi and Shadis doesn’t need Erwin. Erwin is in Sina for a few months before his next expedition, and has been provided with quarters and workspace in the MP headquarters. They have time.

“So basically,” says Levi one evening, near the end of their two hours, “the problem is that we don’t actually know shit about Titans.”

“Beyond how to reliably kill them, very little,” Erwin admits. “They’re faster and stronger than anything their size ought to be, and they appear to be less active at night. They don’t appear vulnerable to starvation. Everything else is pure speculation. As you can appreciate, they’re quite hard to study close-up.”

“Huh.” Levi leans back in his chair. “Seems to me like that’s what we need now: a scientist who isn’t afraid to get their hands dirty.”

“If you find one, let me know,” says Erwin dryly.

“Will do,” says Levi. “Now stay there and I’ll hold up my end of the bargain.” True to his word, he stands up and makes to seat himself upon Erwin’s lap, but Erwin stops him.

“Like this,” he says, and tugs Levi forward by the hips to get him to straddle Erwin’s thighs, like he’d done the first time. Levi is pliant, watching him with deliberate disinterest, hands loosely curled in Erwin’s shirt.

Erwin catches Levi’s chin delicately in the fingers of his right hand, holding him still so he can lean in and kiss him, soft and brief. Levi’s mouth is small under his. He neither tenses up nor reciprocates: he just lets Erwin do what he wants with him. 

Erwin pulls back a few inches, eyes fixed on Levi’s. Recently, Erwin has started chastely kissing him more often. He must know what it’s leading up to. Erwin places his hands on Levi's thighs, where they rest heavily. He feels Levi's small chest rise and fall against his; his thighs are solid but small under Erwin's broad palms and long fingers. He leans in to kiss his darling boy again. 

Levi opens his mouth willingly when Erwin delicately, delicately licks his bottom lip. Erwin is always very careful with Levi, who is so small next to him. He doesn’t immediately stick his tongue in Levi’s mouth, just traces his lips with it, touch light and teasing - he doesn’t want Levi to feel like his face is being eaten. Levi’s fingers tighten in his shirt.

Right now, he could lift Levi up, seat him on the edge of the desk, pull down those uniform trousers and take his sweet little prick into his mouth. Levi’s not yet hit the hormonal surge of puberty, but Erwin remembers being younger, long before he knew it was a sexual thing, masturbating just because it felt good. He could bring Levi to a dry orgasm, make him shake.

He won’t, of course. It wouldn’t be good for him. He sucks on Levi’s lower lip as he pulls away. Levi is just a little pink in the face, and that makes Erwin want to kiss him again, thrust his tongue into his mouth and squeeze his round bottom. He sits back instead.

"That's all for today," he says mildly. Levi clambers off his lap, throws him a salute that's at least half sarcastic, and makes his exit. Erwin closes his eyes and takes a few deep breaths to get himself back under control. His pulse beats rapidly in his stomach. His body sings with desire for what it is denied.

He must be good. He is nineteen, almost twenty, and an officer in the Garrison. He has trained himself to have extraordinary self-control. He must be good.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, everyone who subscribed: as you've realised, I'm not a quick writer at all! Think of it as an irregular but hopefully delightful treat?

Kaney has an assignment; Erwin doesn't know where. He takes Levi with him.

Erwin doesn't like to admit it, but he spends much of the first week doing paperwork, exercising and daydreaming about Levi. His birthday is 'some time in July', and Erwin has a hunch that they won't be able to celebrate it together. He sits in his chair of an afternoon to take tea and consider strategy, and misses the warm weight of Levi's bony arse in his lap.

Thierry, one of his age-mates from training, catches him on his way back from a meeting with his superiors about the forthcoming expedition and invites him to the pub with some of their mutual friends. Erwin goes: he's in the mood to chat, and Thierry has always been a good conversationalist.

The pub is one frequented by garrison members; a group of junior officers receives no curiosity. Erwin slides into a seat next to Nile and has his shoulder briefly clutched in a firm grip. The faces round the table are familiar, and he settles down to the serious business of beer and gossip.

Nile, he discovers, is in love. Again.

"How do you become so intensely passionate about these women when you barely speak to them?" asks Hertz, despairing. "Do you even know her name?"

" _Marie_ has the eyes of a doe and the mouth of a carved saint," says Nile, with dignity. "And she complimented my tie." They all laugh, but Erwin notices how happy Nile looks, not lovelorn as when he laments his usual object of passion. Maybe this is the one at last. Erwin's never met another man who so desperately wanted a wife and children.

Hertz, when pressed about her love life in turn, is eager to share.

"Prettiest little thing I ever did see come out of basic," she says, taking a swig of beer.

" _'Little'_ ," Nile snorts. "She'd make two of you!"

"Dainty, she is not," Hertz concedes. "But you know I like 'em big and strong and buxom. Fifteen, and a figure like a burlesque dancer. Statuesque, she is." She raises her eyes to the ceiling in contemplation of the absent girl's most attractive attributes.

"Does she like you, d'you think?" asks Frieda, quiet and watchful. She has a long-time sweetheart in the Military Police; since she's safe there too, Erwin sometimes wonders when they're going to get married and if she'll think to mention it to her friends when they do. Frieda sometimes has to be reminded of such social niceties.

"Mm, can't tell yet. She keeps coming to me, though, so I live in hope that it's not just her sweet nature that makes her put up with me sitting snuggled up next to her when we have a _friendly chat_. She's a good addition to the Garrison."

"And how about you, Erwin?" asks Nile, catching his eye. "I know you're working like the Devil himself to get that promotion, but haven't you left any time for play?"

"He's been busy training up a new little protege, so I hear," says Hertz, eyes glinting over the rim of her beer stein. "The boy Kaney brought with him, you know."

"If he's already Kaney's protege, doesn't that cause a...conflict of interest?" Frieda fixes her gaze on him with customary intensity. Someone she had known had been killed by 'Kaney the Ripper'; a cousin, Erwin thinks.

"Thus far, Kaney has seemed remarkably unconcerned by the idea. Of course, he tends to give Levi plenty of free time, and I don't interfere with his training schedule, merely supplement it." Erwin takes a sip. "In fact, they're both currently out of the capital: Kaney seems to feel that Levi will learn best by doing."

"That's a very fond little smile, Erwin," says Nile, amused. Erwin hadn't noticed.

Missing your boytoy?" asks Hertz, teasingly.

"Deeply," sighs Erwin, affecting a lovelorn expression. "It's those long eyelashes, you know."

A chuckle goes round the table. They don't take it seriously: why should they? Levi is only eleven going on twelve, only a child, not yet ripe for fucking. Erwin wants him so badly he aches.

"You really think he's going to be something, huh?" asks Thierry.

"I think he has a great deal of potential," says Erwin, fiddling with his stein. "He's extremely clever, and he's extremely tough." Preternaturally so, really. Sometimes, Erwin wonders about his exact limits.

"S'pose growing up with Kaney will do that to you," says Hertz sagely. Everyone mumbles agreement: Kaney's stint as 'Kaney the Ripper' has been neither forgiven nor forgotten.

At this moment Mike comes into the pub, ducking his head to fit under the lintel, and they wave him over with enthusiasm. The conversation turns to interrogation about Mike's love life, all unsuccessful as usual, and then to discussion of blade production and whether the current steel quality is better or worse than it was last year. Erwin stops thinking about Levi for a while, and is grateful. He's getting as bad as Nile.

Kaney returns in early August, not long before Erwin is due to leave on the next Expedition outside the Walls. Levi has grown in the interim, though only an inch. He shows no signs of childhood malnutrition, despite having lived in the Underground; he's just small.

Erwin knows this because he checks. They have a week and a half before Erwin leaves, and most of that time will be taken up with seemingly endless planning meetings. They're implementing Erwin's suggestion for a new convoy plan. If it works, fatalities should decrease by twenty percent or more; and Erwin should be in line for promotion. He hates not rocking the boat until he's climbed almost to the top of the greasy pole - or should that be mast? - but he learnt in childhood how to play the long game.

"Hurry up, old man," says Levi, sauntering into his office the very afternoon he returns, "I haven't had a cup of tea in a _week_." In his white shirt, blue ribbon and dark shorts, he could be a spoilt little noble escaped from his tutor for the afternoon.

Erwin rings for hot water. It arrives three minutes later, freshly boiled and steaming, and in that time Erwin and Levi sit in their respective chairs and stare at each other in silence. Erwin is checking Levi for evidence of what he's been doing for the past month and a half: he has a small half-healed cut at the corner of his mouth, as if from a punch, but otherwise he's just as he left. He doesn't know what Levi's trying to find on him.

Erwin makes the tea. They sit in further silence, blowing on and eventually drinking it. Erwin keeps noticing how Levi is dwarfed by his armchair; he hadn't had time to fill it with extra cushions. Levi lounges in it like a princeling, hooded eyes fixed on Erwin's figure. His thoughts are opaque. The silence stretches between them. An invisible pressure wraps around Erwin, tingling tension starting in his abdomen and spreading through his limbs to make his skin feel too small.

Erwin makes to sip from his cup, and finds that it is empty. He puts the cup back in its saucer and stands. He can feel his own heartbeat in his chest.

He shifts the table out of the way, carefully so as not to disturb the tea tray, and steps forward into the space to stand in front of Levi. He takes the teacup from Levi's fingers gently, finding it as he had expected - empty.

Slowly, he sinks to his knees before Levi.

Levi looks down at him with the expression of vague contempt that he seems to give everything. Erwin knows it's only how his face falls, with its thin pouting lips: he'll grow out of it. He takes up Levi's foot, balancing the heel in his palm, supporting his knee with the other hand. Levi deliberately relaxes.

With one hand, he works off Levi's loafer. Tenderly, he rolls down and pulls off the sock to reveal a small white foot, blushed pink underneath. Levi lets him.

Erwin presses a kiss to the top of Levi's foot. It's clean and faintly scented with soap - knowing Levi, he bathed the moment he got back - with thick, callused skin on the heel which rests securely in Erwin's cupped palm. Levi's toes, with their freshly-trimmed nails, flex slightly. Toes, Erwin has discovered, are a part of the body which it is immensely difficult to control.

Next, he kisses the knob of bone on the inside of the foot, the talus bone, so vulnerable to fracture. Then slowly up the inside of Levi's leg, feeling the smooth skin and downy hair under his lips, the smell of soap and sweat. No rapid ghosting of kisses like an over-affectionate aunt or a teasing boyfriend: he takes his time and makes Levi feel every gentle, open-mouthed kiss, Erwin's mouth sucking briefly at his flesh, then releasing.

Up the calf to the bend of the knee: Erwin kisses the tendon there. The meat of Levi's skinny thighs makes him want to bite, but he only presses more slow, sweet kisses up the inside until the leg of Levi's shorts stops him.

Above him, Levi's breath comes more quickly than normal. Erwin pauses, savouring the anticipation and tamping down the urge to tear the shorts off him and get Levi's prick in his mouth.

Instead, he turns his attention to the other foot. Off come the shoe and sock; up the downy calf, the muscle under his lips firmer than the usual twelve year old's; the tenderest of kisses at the knee, just where he'd press to dislocate the patella; and again up the thigh, now trembling just a little, to where the hem of Levi's neat black shorts stops him.

He puts Levi's leg back down and takes hold of his spread knees. Levi doesn't try to close them.

Erwin looks up at last. Levi is pink about the ears, biting the inside of his cheek. He has an erection: the difference a few months make. Erwin imagines leaning forward and burying his face in Levi's crotch like a dog.

He rolls Levi's socks back on, then helps him wriggle his feet back into the loafers. His breathing is unsteady when Erwin strokes his calves. Erwin wants very badly to kiss him, so he does: he balances himself with one hand on the arm of the chair and takes Levi's face in the other.

Levi tilts his head, opens his mouth wide, and pushes his tongue against Erwin's. Erwin's control nearly expires on the spot. He squeezes the arm of the chair tightly and only teases Levi with little flicks of his tongue, until Levi seizes his shoulders and makes as if to bring up his legs - at which point Erwin gently pulls away, tugging his shirt free of Levi's fists.

He steps back and puts the table back in place, so if he does try to fling himself at Levi in a fit of passion, he'll bang his shin and remember himself.

Levi is slumped in his chair, mouth red and wet from kissing, legs spread in a way that draws attention to the erection pressing against the crotch of his shorts. He's staring at Erwin, specifically at Erwin's crotch, where his raging erection is obvious through his uniform trousers.

Erwin clears his throat and leans to one side to pick up _Elements of Military Strategy, Volume II_. Levi narrows his eyes.

"That's not nice, old man," he says. Erwin only raises an eyebrow at him.

For a minute, Erwin thinks he's going to say something more; but then he just sits up, legs still spread uncouthly, and looks pointedly at the book in Erwin's hand. Erwin is proud that his hand doesn't shake, even though he's so turned-on he can hardly see straight.

They discuss Schwarzhelm's example of an army on the march in foreign and hostile territory and its obvious applications to their current situation. It takes quarter of an hour for Erwin's aching erection to finally subside under the weight of dry talk about supply lines; he doesn't know how long it takes Levi because if he looks and finds that inviting bulge again even banging his shin on the table might not save him from giving up the plan entirely and ravishing him there and then.

_Feral cat,_ he reminds himself, and when Levi comes to sit on his lap for a few minutes at the end to be cuddled and kissed, he clasps his skinny thigh in one hand but doesn't go any higher. Levi is at least kind enough not to wriggle.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thought you'd seen the last of me? NEVER. Sorry about the wait: I had to finish my degree, which I think you'll agree is a pretty good excuse. Enjoy!

Gossip in the officers' mess tells Erwin that Kaney leaves a handful of days later - but he doesn't take Levi with him. Erwin is deeply relieved: they don't have long until he himself has to leave for the Annual Expedition. Shadis is already at Wall Maria, making preparations and sending him brusque letters every other day. Erwin keeps him abreast of developments and does his best to requisition men and materiel for the Corps.

The woman in charge of the Corps' stables he discovers to seal her forthright letters with a large blob of wax, and a design of such depth that the seal must have been pressed into it with considerable force. He envisions her with a hearty figure, a bluff masculine manner, and a regrettable affection for plaid tweed: the sort of woman with whom Hertz would fall instantly in love.

Levi is beautifully behaved for their next several appointments. The hours they spend together, hours of Erwin explaining military history and theory to this clever, sharp-eyed boy in his lap, are his respite and his solace in a day of contemplating the deaths, potential and certain, of any number of Survey Corps members.

When he's tucked up in his bedroll, on the edge of uneasy sleep, he wants the memory of these hours to keep him warm. The feeling of Levi's body tucked against his, his bony shoulderblades under Erwin's hand, the feral calculation in his long-lashed eyes. The lines of Levi's skinny body which promise fragility but deliver whipcord toughness just below the fair skin. His little mouth, opening to Erwin - so sweet for such a sharp tongue.

Erwin imagines him a hundred different ways, and masturbates twice daily. He goes to bed wishing for the bed to dip a little next to him with a skinny twelve-year-old's weight, warm in sleep and just the right size to wrap an arm around. He plots out wild, improbable scenarios in which this could happen, all of them contriving to have Levi push back the covers and get into bed with him. Erwin would make love to him slowly; or he'd hold Levi close and they'd only talk; and then they'd sleep the night through in each other's arms.

Erwin has no idea how he's going to get through the next three months. He can only hope that the threat of becoming Titan food will focus his mind on the task at hand.

They have their last session in Erwin's office, as always. It's little more than a closet, but the windows are large but set high up on the wall, so nosy parkers can't peek in. Erwin is a man who values his privacy.

Levi looks no different from usual: neat and scowling in shirt, shorts and tiny cravat. When Erwin had first seen the cravat, he'd wondered about its origin. Then Levi had dropped into his lap without being asked, and he'd put the question aside. Erwin wants to do things with that cravat, though he can't quite work out what.

Levi nods at him and goes straight to sprawl in the armchair on his mound of cushions - really, one of these days somebody is going to realise that the store of extra cushions for important guests has vanished, and come looking for them. Erwin takes up the book, and they talk about the user of pincer movements against Titans - the essence of which is that a Titan's size makes them considerably less efficient than one might hope. Distraction at the front is a better tactic, and in fact the usual tactic of the Corps since its formation - assuming, of course, that one can sufficiently distract a sufficient number of Titans without sacrificing a huge number of men.

It's not exactly an erotically stimulating topic, but Erwin's skin prickles with banked desire. It used to be that Levi walked into a room and he felt a little rush of fondness and a touch of sexual desire: these days, Levi's entrance lights up the room and Erwin has to resist the urge to drag him off and do unspeakable things to him.

Perhaps these coming months away will be good for him. Erwin had expected to fall in love with Levi: he wouldn't have proposed their arrangement if he hadn't. But he hadn't anticipated what falling in love would _feel_ like.

He can't tell if Levi is feeling it too: the fidgeting might mean anything. It's when Levi is still that he needs to be prepared.

The discussion of pincer movements trails off during a digression about the speed of the Survey Corps' horses. Neither of them tries to start it up again. Erwin keeps looking at Levi and Levi keeps staring back.

Carefully, Erwin moves the coffee table out of the way. Then he kneels on the rug and, as before, removes Levi's shoes.

Levi grasps the arms of his chair and widens his legs. Erwin admires the bulge of his little erection in his shorts. He could slip his fingers up one leg and touch it.

Again, the small sweet kisses to the leg, stopping at the hem of the shorts. The hair is still fine and downy, but muscle is developing underneath. Levi breathes loudly through his nose as Erwin enjoys the salty taste of his skin.

He takes it slowly, savouring the lines of Levi's body under his hands and mouth. When he gets above the knee he gives in to the temptation to bite, just a little, at Levi's thighs. Levi makes a tiny hiccuping whimper, and Erwin's cock throbs violently.

He eases off gently, stroking his hands down Levi's skinny legs, warming them. Then, impetuously, he stretches a little further up and presses a wet, sucking kiss to the tip of Levi's cock through his shorts.

Levi makes a throttled wailing noise and thrusts his hips forward. Erwin gently pushes him back into his chair. He'll savour this all the campaign long. He'll savour this until he _dies_.

Levi slumps in his chair, a little wet patch at the tip of his erection that Erwin can't tear his eyes away from as he resettles himself in his own chair.

And then, in a move that Erwin would never have predicted, he undoes the button on his shorts, yanks down the zip, and sticks his hand down his pants.

"If you're not going to finish it," he says breathlessly, hand working in his shorts, "then I w-will."

"Fuck," says Erwin, quietly. Why hadn't he anticipated that Levi, when denied, would simply find another way to get what he wanted? He squeezes his thighs, digging his fingers hard into the flesh. He wishes he could squeeze Levi's thighs; one hand would fit most of the way round. His fingernails would dig into the flesh as into ripe fruit.

Levi leans back, hooks his legs over the arms of his chair, and masturbates with his eyes flicking between Erwin's face and his crotch. Erwin could join him, could pick him up, set him in his lap, and take his little prick in his big hand and pull at it until he came.

Erwin gives in and squeezes his aching erection through his trousers, and sighs at how good it feels. He closes his eyes.

"Show me," says Levi, his voice gone faint. "Show me w-what you're going to shove up my a-ass." Did he learn that on the street, or is he just being crude? He's stopped moving his hand: Erwin imagines his fingers squeezing his hard cock, waiting for Erwin to take out his own.

"I don't have all day," Levi snaps. "Just take out your massive cock and let me see it." He's squirming in his seat - Erwin can hear it.

Breathing hard through his nose, Erwin opens his trousers and takes out his erection. When he opens his eyes, Levi's bug-eyed stare is tremendously stimulating: it twitches in his hand, and Levi's mouth opens.

"Shit," he says, "I wasn't imagining it." He keeps looking at it as his hand starts moving again. "Go on, then."

"If you show me yours." Erwin tries to make it light, but his voice is rough and low. Levi, shameless as ever, gets up off the chair to yank his shorts and underwear down and off over his shoes, then sprawls in it with his legs spread in the same exhibitionist attitude as before.

His cock is - perfect. Small and pink, sticking straight up, hair at the base just starting to come in; his testicles are still small and smooth and high. Levi lets him get a good look, then starts stroking it again: two fingers and thumb, firm and steady. Goal-oriented. Who taught him how to masturbate? When did he learn?

Erwin pumps his cock slowly, rolling his hips just a little into each stroke, chasing the sweet ache. He may have given in, but there's no need to rush.

Levi's eyes look unfocussed, but they don't close. He squirms restlessly on the chair, making little circling, grinding motions into the seat. Erwin imagines how sweet that would feel on his cock, with Levi in his lap, and strokes it faster.

Levi's face keeps scrunching and relaxing with pleasure. Maybe he hasn't done this often, Erwin thinks: maybe he's been waiting to show Erwin what he can do now he's growing up. His little cock is growing pinker, red at the tip, and it looks so suckable that Erwin's mouth waters.

Spreading his legs wider, Erwin gets into it properly. He watches Levi through his eyelashes, admiring the way his skinny legs jerk when he touches the head of his cock, how the muscles of his stomach, flattening into the lean lines of a teenager, jump a little under the pale skin. He's smooth, unmarked: Erwin wants to bite him, just a little. Maybe Levi would like being bitten: Erwin does.

Erwin looks at Levi's red wet mouth, open and panting, and imagines those sharp little teeth sinking into his flesh: his throat, his nipple, his thigh. Levi has such a clever mouth.

He can tell when Levi is about to come, because his legs lock up and his eyes roll back. He lets out a frightened little wail, jerks back and forth in his seat - and then relaxes, shuddering. There's no ejaculate that Erwin sees, just a wet shine on his little red cockhead.

He looks so delectably fucked-out, lying back on his mound of cushions with his face flushed pink and his cock still hard that Erwin has to give in.

Without the coffee table between them, Erwin is able to slide out of his chair and onto his knees more or less gracefully and crawl - ungracefully, there is no elegant way to crawl - to kneel in front of Levi's.

He puts one hand on the bare, white, warm thigh, feeling the heartbeat in the femoral artery. Then he leans in and takes Levi's sweet, wet little cock into his mouth.

Levi jerks forward and nearly falls out of his chair: Erwin has to catch him by the hips to keep him upright. He lets out a little cry as Erwin sucks on his oversensitive cock while frantically stripping his own. He tastes clean and salty and so good, so good on Erwin's long-denied tongue.

Erwin can take all of Levi's cock in his mouth easily, so he tries harder: he takes a breath through his nose and opens his mouth wide, sticks out his tongue - and laps at Levi's testicles in their fragile sac.

Levi makes a muffled high-pitched noise and shakes.

Encouraged, Erwin curls his tongue behind them and guides them gently into his mouth.

Levi makes a tiny howling noise - Erwin looks up to find that he's stuffed his fist into his mouth to stifle himself. His eyes are closed, his face is red, and he's making little sobbing sounds as he shakes violently all over and comes for a second time in Erwin's mouth. Erwin teases his tongue over his sensitive cockhead until Levi is shoving at his shoulders to get him to pull off. There's a hint of tears in his eyes.

Erwin comes so powerfully that his vision turns white and he feels his mouth open in a silent moan. It washes over him, wracks him with pleasure for a long minute, and leaves him wrung out on the floor at Levi's feet. He rests his head on the seat between Levi's legs and feels his heart thundering in his chest.

A small hand settles, with unexpected gentleness, on his head. Erwin wants to take it and kiss the fingers one by one, but even his hands are shaking, so he settles for pressing a little kiss to the inside of Levi's white thigh, where the skin is softest.

"My lovely boy," he murmurs. He hears Levi swallow.

Movement, bending, Levi's face looming over him - and then, wonder of wonders, a tiny kiss, sweet and lingering, on his cheek just above his beardline.

Erwin turns his head to catch Levi's lips with his, and commits them to memory. He's a realistic man: he knows that this may be the last chance he gets.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter, another wait. This time, my excuse is that I got a job! Which is delightful, because I get to do stuff I enjoy and get paid for it, but it does take up a fair amount of my time and energy. See you in another few months?

Erwin survives. Thierry doesn't.

The mortality rate among Erwin's troops - five squads - drops to forty-five percent. Erwin's innovation has lowered it beyond half for the first time. By the standards of the Survey Corps, that's an unprecedented victory; it will win Erwin a commendation and a promotion. Nobody celebrates. They ride through the eastern gate of Wall Maria in grim silence. The people watch them pass and keep their children out of sight.

Tomorrow night they'll drink and dance and celebrate still being alive when so many of their comrades aren't, in the bellies of Titans or burned on the pyre to save their corpses from scavengers and draw Titans away from the camp with the savour of burning flesh. Tomorrow morning, Erwin will have to deliver his report. But tonight they'll sleep without danger for the first time in months.

Erwin wakes up to find his clothes scattered in a trail from the door to the bed. His boots have been kicked off to land in opposite corners of the room. He doesn't remember anything after he handed his horse to an ostler at the gate of the compound. He's slept in a strange position and his neck hurts when he tilts his head to the left.

He gets out of bed, puts on a fresh uniform, and goes to make his report.

Commander Dorfmann and he already briefed each other the night before their final ride home, but he still has to deliver his summary of his Team Leaders' reports formally. He, Keith, Darius and the other five Squad Leaders stand in Dorfmann's office at parade rest and wait their turn. Wenger is the most senior, so he delivers the overall report first.

"Human casualties were sixty-seven percent. Horse casualties were thirty-two percent - we benefit from the Titans' lack of interest in them. We have established two fuelling stations, opening the way for further pushes beyond the Walls." His moustache bristles as he speaks; Erwin watches it, fascinated. He once told Erwin that he had grown it so it would be impossible for spies to read his lips. Erwin can certainly think of no other reason for him to have grown it, unless perhaps he wished to render himself immune to sexual advances in perpetuity.

They go down the line, squads one to eight, each reporting casualty rates and delivering brief reports for their squads. Sixty-five percent, seventy-two percent, sixty-three percent, seventy-one percent...Erwin is sixth.

"Squad six had forty-five percent human casualties, twenty-nine percent horse." This is not new information to anybody - the squad leaders regularly met and discussed their running casualty tallies during the expedition - but it has more impact here. Erwin's human casualty rate is twenty-two percent less than the overall rate.

"I attribute our unusually low casualty rate to the new formation we developed and used during the expedition." They all know that by 'we' he means 'I', but it's not a bad thing to look modest. Wenger's eyebrows are now bristling along with his moustache.

They pass along the line, but Erwin knows he's made his point. He tries not to look too satisfied. It's still not as low as he'd like - a lot of soldiers are still dead, including Thierry - but it's a drastic improvement, and Dorfmann isn't stupid: he'll want the formation, Erwin's brainchild, implemented in all squads in time for the next expedition. It takes the sting out of the fact that they've not really discovered anything more about the Titans.

They're released in under an hour. Their direct superiors, the Sergeants, will receive a more thorough grilling: Hellis is already loitering outside the door, hands as usual in his pockets, looking like he wants a cigarette. They all nod to him in passing.

Part of Erwin wants to crawl back into bed. After the adrenaline of an expedition wears off, bone-deep tiredness sets in and makes almost every member of the Corps want to sleep for days. He could, if he wanted: his week's leave started the moment he left Dorfmann's office.

He does go back to his rooms, but not to sleep. He'll ring for tea and send for Levi: their weekly lesson should fall on this day.

When he opens the door of his study, he finds that Levi has already come to find him.

He means to say something like, "Good morning, Levi," as he strolls to the chair opposite and rings for tea, then delect the appearance of his boy in comfort.

"Darling," he says instead, dragging his palms down the sides of Levi's face, down his thin neck, down his arms, then seizing his face in his hands once more to pull him into a deep kiss. His own heartbeat is pounding his ears. Levi looks the same as he did four months ago, sitting there in that chair with all its cushions. He smells as he always does, soap and skin, that sweet intoxicating boyish smell.

Levi's arms come up around his neck as he returns Erwin's kiss. Their mouths are barely open, it's almost chaste but for the fervour they're both putting into it, shoving their mouths together forcefully, clumsily. Erwin's hands drop to Levi's skinny hips, Levi scrabbles at his back, and at last Erwin is so carried away that he seizes Levi's lovely buttocks, one in each hand, and sweeps him up to embrace him properly, crushing their bodies together.

Levi makes a muffled startled noise into their kiss, but doesn't bite, so Erwin holds him in the air with one hand under his thighs and the other on his back, feeling his lungs filling and emptying as he takes quick breaths through his nose. He kisses Levi more softly, like he usually does, gentle sweet kisses with undulating pressure, trying not to overwhelm his small mouth. Levi picks it up quickly.

"Darling," he says again at last, mouth an inch from Levi's. He can't bear to put him down just yet.

"Erwin," Levi mumbles. His breath sends tiny streams of warm air over Erwin's lips. "I missed you." His arms tighten around Erwin's neck. "I didn't think I would, but I did." He leans forward to press a chaste little kiss to the corner of Erwin's lips. It's the sweetest, most affectionate thing he's ever done for Erwin.

"I missed you too, very much," Erwin breathes. "I thought about you every night." Levi to talk to, Levi to hold, a small warm body in his thin bedroll - he'd wanted him so much he ached. He's twenty, and he'd never ached with desire before, but he did then, wracked by the awful wrenching heart-sickness of longing. _Susskind,_ he had asked the stars, almost obliterated by tree branches, _did you ache like this for me?_

He presses one last kiss to Levi's pink mouth, then reluctantly lowers him to the floor. He's taller: he must have grown an inch in the time Erwin has been gone.

"Now," he says, his voice deliberately steady, "I was about to ring for tea."

The hot water arrives within the minute: somebody else must have requested it just before Erwin did. Levi stops him before he can pour it onto the tea leaves.

"Let me," he says. His small hands are steady as he makes tea for them. "I bet you've not had tea since you left."

"You're completely right," Erwin confesses, watching steam curl out of the teapot's spout. "There's no time to miss it during the expedition, but I've wanted a cup all morning."

"I didn't see you in the mess at breakfast. What, did the expedition tire you out, old man?" Levi raises one sardonic eyebrow. Erwin loves him intensely.

"It did, as a matter of fact. I slept until twenty minutes before I had to make my official report." He picks up a madeleine. "Which is why I ordered these." He doesn't fancy the full cooked breakfast many of his fellows go in for their first morning back - after months of watery porridge it just looks greasy, he needs a day to adjust - but he's quite happy to reward himself with cake.

Levi allows him to take his first bite of madeleine, savouring the sweetness, the fluffiness, the skill that went into making it. It's a perfectly ordinary little cake, but after months of Corps food, it tastes like something that should be served at the King's table.

"So how did it go?" he asks when Erwin's mouth is empty again.

"Oh, I see." Erwin takes a drink of tea. "You just want to pump me for information!"

"Of course I do," says Levi dismissively. "So? You're revoltingly cheerful, and I don't think it's just euphoria at being alive. I heard some pretty interesting rumours about you in the mess this morning."

"Oh? Do go on." Erwin puts on a fatuous expression, widening his eyes innocently. Levi scowls at him.

"See what you miss by not showing up to breakfast? But who are we kidding, you know exactly what they said. Apparently your squad's casualty rate is down to some ludicrously low number."

"Forty-five percent," Erwin confirms, taking another bite of madeleine.

Levi raises his eyebrows and whistles.

"Not bad, old man. The usual rate's two-thirds. I bet everyone was impressed." He takes an unrefined gulp of his tea. "Of course, it's not _really_ impressive until it's below forty percent."

Erwin bursts out laughing.

"That's my ultimate goal," he says once he's recovered. Levi is staring at him in astonishment. "But in order to achieve that, I fear we'll need to know a lot more about the Titans. If we implement the current strategy for the entire Corps, I estimate that casualty rates should be around twenty percent for experienced soldiers and seventy for new recruits." He makes a face. "The first mission always weeds out most of them, unfortunately. I want to do something to improve retention rates - if even half of the new men survive their first engagement with a Titan, that would make an enormous difference - but so far there seems no way to predict what makes a solider more likely to survive." He eats a contemplative madeleine. It's a problem that had vexed him almost as soon as he'd joined the Corps, and he's no closer to solving it even now.

"Huh." Levi looks like he's thinking about the problem. The morning light catches his light grey eyes attractively. Erwin wishes him luck in coming up with a solution.

"Ah, Levi," he says affectionately. "I wish I could bring you with me."

"I bet you do." Levi leers at him. It's pretty good, if a bit odd on a twelve-year old: he's no doubt picked it up from the Underground's finest.

"You know what I meant. Though I'm sure you'd keep me warm on those cold nights..." He leers back. Levi looks like he's trying not to laugh.

"Dirty old man," he says, like one might say _Sweetheart_. "Anyway, you'll get your wish. Not for a few years, though."

"A few...?" Erwin puts his teacup down. "Levi, are you trying to tell me that you're signing up?"

"Yep. Twelve's the earliest they'll let you in. I'll be off in the spring."

"Levi, I..." For a moment, _That's wonderful, I'm very proud,_ wars horribly with _Please don't leave_. Then he marshals his emotions and thoughts, and says:

"Well, I'll miss you very much. You know I will." He licks his lips. "The Cadet Corps is three years of gruelling work, but I think you'll be able to handle it. The skill you'll have to fight to master is working with others. Everything else should come naturally."

"And then I'll join the Survey Corps, and come and fight by your side." Levi sits bolt upright, glowing with purpose. Erwin reaches out and takes his hands, squeezing tightly.

" _Yes_ ," he says. They sit there for a long moment, hands clasped, contemplating the future. Erwin imagines he can feel Levi's fervour seeping into him - his hands are burning hot.

They break apart after a while. Erwin clears his throat and pours more tea.

"And what does Kenny think about this?" He doesn't know the enigmatic leader of the Military Police well enough to predict his reaction. Levi just snorts.

"Who cares what Kenny thinks?" Levi slouches in his chair. "He hasn't told me anything." He sounds as if he _might_ be sulking.

"Nothing at all?" Erwin can hardly believe that Kenny the Ripper has no opinion on Levi joining the most dangerous division of the military, even if it's only 'Good idea, kill as many Titans as you possibly can, there's a lad'.

"Nothing." Levi tilts his head. "Haven't you heard? He's gone."


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to dedicate this chapter to Disgusted of Tunbridge Wells (commenting under the pseudonym 'Sherlock221'), whose recent comment inspired me to bang out the 2K required for this chapter in two days through sheer contrarianism.

Erwin enjoys his three weeks of leave to their fullest. He puts aside the question of Kenny early on: subtle enquiries get him nowhere, and it rapidly becomes apparent that whoever knows the circumstances behind his disappearance is both very senior and very good at keeping their mouth shut. So - "For the first time in your life, probably," says Levi - he leaves it alone.

He still has plenty to occupy his time.

"Aren't you going home to visit your family?" Levi is lounging in his lap. "It's what most people do."

"No, I'd rather stay here with you." Levi gives him a narrow-eyed look, as if he suspects him of undue flattery with an eye to bribery. In fact, it's no more than the truth. Erwin can visit his family any time he likes: he was brought up in this region of the city, and the graveyard is only a few streets away.

Of Levi's family, he knows only this:

They are discussing the possible origin of the Titans. Levi favours the theory that they're somehow sprung from the earth itself. Since the topic is a popular one in the Training Corps barracks and in bars frequented by military personnel, Erwin fills him in on some of the more plausible - and more amusing - ideas he's heard.

"Mike was wondering whether Titans have mothers, and indeed whether somewhere there's some great, monstrous Mother Titan, birthing them all out, or maybe even several. It scarcely bears thinking about, but then Nile got very maudlin imagining this hypothetical Mother Titan's feelings at losing all her children - honestly, Levi, that man's the saddest drunk I've ever met - and I got quite fed up and told him that it didn't matter even if there were this Mother Titan, we can't go around not exterminating them because they've got a _mother_. We've all got mothers! Or did, at least," he amends, and has a drink of his sherry.

"I used to have a mother," says Levi, unexpectedly. He's just on tea - not because of any fear on Erwin's part of corrupting the youth, but because he doesn't like the taste of alcohol. He even wrinkles his nose at the weak beer given to kids.

"I would be very surprised if you didn't." You can't be too sentimental with Levi, Erwin has found. He thinks you're trying to lull him into a false sense of security.

"Mhm." Levi takes a neat sip of tea where he's perched in Erwin's lap, as usual. Erwin can guess why he no longer has a mother - he's never seen life in the Underground, but he's heard stories, and it's safe to assume that she's either dead or as good as. But the bland, off-hand way in which Levi mentions it is still slightly unnerving in a child of his age.

_You always knew he was a strange one, Erwin,_ he tells himself, and cautiously rests his palm on Levi's back. _If he were a normal twelve-year-old, you wouldn't be doing this with him._

"Kenny's her brother, in case you were wondering." Erwin had been. "So he's my uncle, but I don't think we look much alike." Levi considers his teacup, the tiny bubbles in the tea. "But I don't look much like her either." He looks at Erwin's face as if trying to see the working of sinews beneath skin. "Do you look like your parents?"

"I look somewhat like both of them, particularly in colouring, and I've noticed in the past couple of years that my face is starting to look more like my father's. But what was always remarkable to them was that I was the absolute image of my maternal grandfather, my mother's father. She had a picture of him as a young man in his Military Police uniform; I kept it, and the resemblance is uncanny." Erwin strokes Levi's hair, combing it back from his face and letting it fall again. It's sleek, like cat's fur.

"Hm." Levi resettles himself. "So what's Hertz's favourite theory?" And that's that.

It's a nice way to spend his time off, but the question of Kenny's disappearance still niggles at Erwin's mind. And the questions Levi asks about the Titans, so many of which he can't answer...they need a scientist, he realises. They need a whole _team_ of scientists.

He's not yet in a position to do anything about the scientists, but he wants answers about Kenny Ackerman. So he decides on the course of action he hopes Levi will adopt in the coming years: he goes to see his mentor.

Herman Susskind lives quietly these days on the nice, leafy side of the canal in Karanes district, in a fair-sized house with a garden and a paddock. As a former Commander of the Survey Corps, he'd be entitled to residence within Mitras, but instead he and his wife live here, in a district scarcely safer than Trost.

"I like to keep the bastards where I can sense them," he likes to say. And so he does.

Erwin goes round the side of the house and takes the stile over the fence into the paddock. The horses, quite accustomed to him after so many visits, come over looking interested.

"Nothing for you today, I'm afraid," Erwin says as two of them thoroughly sniff and lip at his pockets and hands. He strokes their velvety muzzles and lets them press against him, closing his eyes and breathing in their warm, horsey smell. They're such elegant, fine-looking beasts, bred for speed. These are the few that survived expeditions beyond the Walls during their prime years, and are now kept for stud.

Erwin remembers the forceful seal-print of the Mistress of the Stables, and wonders how Herman managed to inveigle her to let him keep them on his property instead of with her. Knowing Herman, he may have simply stolen them in the dead of night then refused to return them.

"Are you fondling my horses again, Erwin?" The horses abandon him in an instant to hurry back to the fence and shove their heads insistently against their owner instead. Shameless hussies.

"I think you'll find _they_ were fondling _me_ ," he calls back at Herman, who's leaning over the fence and happily rubbing his cheeks against those of the horses. He always had an excellent rapport with animals, especially the horses he rode in the Corps. Erwin takes a moment to enjoy the scene: a sunlit paddock, beautiful horses, and a middle-aged man with a receding hairline treating them like favoured nieces and nephews.

"It's true, it's true, they are all great flirts - especially when they think you have food," Herman agrees jovially, waving him through the throng. "But you, Erwin, are the greatest flirt of them all! Carrots for the horses, sugar for the children, kisses for me...and of course a kiss for the hand of dear Nina. You will excite her too much! It is not good for a woman of her age!"

Laughing, Erwin comes over and gives him a kiss. He had what must be his final growth last year, and he now has to bend his head a little. Herman notices, of course.

"Ah, I remember the days when I could pick you up and sit you on my lap for kisses," he reminisces fondly.

"Herman, I could still sit on your lap," Erwin points out, trying not to laugh at the mental image of all six feet plus of himself balanced precariously on Herman's thighs. Herman doesn't restrain himself and instead laughs uproariously, and affectionately slaps his shoulder. From the strength behind it, he could probably still pick Erwin up, too.

"But come inside," he insists, "Nina and Johan have made biscuits, and it would be so rude of us not to eat them and say how good they are." His hand on Erwin's back affectionately guides him towards the house.

"Of course," says Erwin amiably, wondering how to insinuate that he needs to talk to Herman at least briefly without his wife and children in the room.

"And then," says Herman, lowering his voice, "we will have our own catch-up, eh?" He says this in the most lascivious tones imaginable, and caps it with a filthy wink.

Of course. He shouldn't have worried. What _might_ worry him is Herman's insistence on camouflaging their true intentions so thoroughly - but Herman's paranoia about 'loose lips' is well-documented. There's no reason to think that the surveillance on the house is greater than usual.

True to Herman's word, there is indeed a batch of biscuits on the table. For the first year, Nina always put her creations on a nice plate and tried to spruce things up a bit. The first time she just plonked the baking tray down and told them to dig in was the moment when Erwin felt he was truly accepted into the family.

Erwin does indeed kiss Nina's hand ("As lovely as ever, Mrs. Susskind.") while she pretends to swoon ("Erwin Smith, you devil!") and Herman laughs mightily and Johan pretends to cover little Elise's eyes. There's a genuine gleam in her eyes, though: Erwin is reliably informed that she was quite the tigress before she settled down with Herman.

(He happens to know that she is, in fact, _still_ quite the tigress when she gets the opportunity - but that's a little more information than his incurably gossipy friends need to know).

And so conversation goes on. Nina has a new hat and a funny story about the shop assistant who sold it her, Herman has a wealth of new embarrassing stories about the children, Johan has stories about his impossible or amazing classmates (never any in between) and Elise says very little but gives the impression of paying careful attention to everything said in front of her. For a toddler, that's no mean feat. When Johan was that age he would have happily made incomprehensible toddler-babble for as long as he was permitted.

At last, Nina considers her offspring with a critical eye and says:

"You two need to be washed." She stands up from the table. "Come on, Johan, Elise. Your father and Erwin are going to smoke cigars and talk about supply lines and other boring things."

"Nina, you wound me," says Herman amiably. "Supply lines are surely the most exciting part of an expedition, no?"

"No, Daddy," says Johan firmly, and is obediently led off to the bath, trailing Elise by the hand. Like most seven-year-olds, he's excited by the blood-and-guts part of Titan-slaying, but despite his father's former profession, he evinces surprisingly little interest in the military as a whole. At that age Erwin would have begged to stay and listen to dry talk about logistics.

Erwin and Herman retire to the sofa in front of the fire, and Herman feeds the flames with a couple of logs from the basket.

"We'll make it romantic, yes?" he says with a grin before coming to join Erwin. Erwin notes two windows, one at the front of the house and one at the back. From the way Herman positions them, he'd guess the watch will be at the front. Of course, otherwise the horses would kick up a fuss.

So they cuddle up on the sofa. Herman presses loving kisses to Erwin's cheekbone and nose, and Erwin wraps his arms around him. The whole thing is powerfully reminiscent of the sweetest parts of Erwin's teenage years. They'd broken it off when Erwin hit eighteen and was undeniably a man, of course, but there's nothing very improper about sharing kisses still.

"Now, sweet," says Herman, taking the opportunity to lick his ear - Erwin has to stifle a giggle, Herman _knows_ he's ticklish there - "let's talk about what you came for, hm?" He blows in Erwin's ear and Erwin does his best not to roll them both off the sofa in giggles.

"Kenny," he murmurs in Herman's ear instead, pressing kisses to his jawline. "He's gone, and nobody knows why."

"That is so," acknowledges Herman, pushing Erwin gently down onto his back, which requires some rearranging on the sofa until their mouths are safely hidden from view. "All sorts of rumours - and then, nothing. How strange, for everyone to suddenly lose interest."

"Rumours?" Erwin goes limp underneath him and gives him a wide-eyed look that Herman has always found hopelessly aphrodisiac. Herman smiles down at him fondly. It's the look Erwin loves best on him; though it faces heavy competition from his defiant open-mouthed roar on the battlefield, smeared with Titan blood.

"Fantasist gossip." He licks Erwin's neck. "But I can tell you one thing, the only thing I am sure of: he won't be back."


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In my defence, I am doing a full-time job and a postgraduate degree at the same time. Enjoy this Christmas treat - and I hope to have another one for you before work starts once more...

And that's that: Herman either knows no details or has become so adroit at masking his thoughts that even Erwin can't see through him.

"All I have heard," he says, "is that he is going far, far away. And that he will not be coming back."

Selfishly, Erwin hopes that's true. He trades affectionate kisses with Herman, wrapping his arms around his mentor's neck and scratching his nails though his thinning hair. He feels like a teenager again.

"Now," says Herman once they're nestled up together peacefully, legs tangled, "you will tell me about this Levi, yes? Kenny's protégé, the one you spend so much time with - oh yes, I know these things. They tell me he means to go into the Corps?"

Or course Herman knows about that. Erwin should never have doubted.

"He has the greatest potential of any cadet I've seen. He's exceptionally strong and agile for his age, despite being so small, but what really marks him out is his character." Erwin curls his toes in excitement. "He grew up in the Underground, and I tell you, it's not like speaking with a twelve year old at all."

"Apart from the obvious," says Herman drily.

"He's extraordinary," Erwin insists, digging his fingers into Herman's back.

"I don't doubt it. I have heard these things, and I trust your judgement. But we both know that you like your fruit a little underripe, Erwin."

"I'll take him as my boy officially when he enters the Corps." His heart thrums with desire. Levi will be thirteen then, old enough to become a solider and to take a lover.

"I shan't ask what's been happening unofficially." Herman's great hand strokes Erwin's hair. "Ah, my Erwin, I worry. You are clever, very clever, and so brave - but too much underripe fruit can make a man very sick."

~*~*~

Erwin thinks about Herman's warning all the way home, letting his pony wend her way through the dark streets, avoiding the infrequent streetlights. It's a long journey from Karanes to Mitras, a couple of hours' walk, and Erwin was glad to accept the mount Herman pressed on him. Alba isn't a former Corps mount: she's actually the family pony on whom the children learnt to ride and Nina takes to visit friends. Still, she's not the stereotypical plodder. Herman's keen eye for horseflesh found a pony with the strength to carry two children but the elegant carriage of a lady's mount, and although she's small for Erwin's long legs, she bears his weight without trouble.

It's not illegal to make love to boys of twelve and up, provided that it isn't by force. Herman's remark alluded to the social implications, not the legal ones. A reputation as a man of specialised sexual tastes isn't one he wishes to cultivate, particularly at this stage in his career. A predilection for young boys isn't the least acceptable peccadillo to have, but it's inappropriate if not outright unacceptable, and just outre enough that the inevitable sniggers and jokes in the barracks would harm his chances of advancement.

_I must proceed carefully._ Erwin identifies himself to a night-watchman and Alba begins to pick her way through the cobbled streets of Mitras. Her steady gait and sturdy, vital body beneath him are comforting. The sensation makes him think of long days in the saddle with Herman riding ahead, and the way he sat up a little straighter whenever he thought Herman might be looking at him. If Herman came back to the Corps, he'd probably still do it. It was why the custom of pederasty was introduced to the Corps in the first place: wanting to make somebody else proud is the most powerful motivator he knows. Even better than revenge.

One day, Levi will make him _very_ proud. Erwin's head feels hot when he contemplates Levi joining the Training Corps, as if he's feeling too many emotions at once and the machinery can't keep up. Levi was made for the Survey Corps. He was made to be Erwin's right-hand man.

But first, he'll spend three years in the Training Corps. He'll get six weeks of leave each year. Perfectly reasonable for a recruit - but Erwin will miss having Levi around all the time.

He's become far too attached. He's so infatuated, it's dangerous. He's had pashes on boys before, of course he has, when he was a boy himself and then as he got older and the boys didn't. When he was fifteen he'd been passionately in love with little ten-year-old Matthias, who had been all too happy to bask in an older boy's attention. He still remembers the first time they went swimming together and Matthias stripped off all his clothes, baring his body to Erwin's eager gaze. He also remembers the sweet kisses he'd received from Matthias' little mouth after their play in the water, the two of them standing in the middle of the river, soaking wet and clinging to each other.

He's seen Matthias lately, not so long before the latest expedition, completely by chance in a bar on the other side of Mitras. He's still sweet-natured, conventionally good-looking and not exceptionally bright - and, at fifteen, developing the first dark hairs of a moustache on his upper lip and the corners of his mouth. He was with a girl, but looked up at Erwin through his lashes as if to imply that he wouldn't mind a couple of kisses. Alas, the glimpse of that first growth had ensured that Erwin would never kiss him again.

But now Erwin is thinking that maybe he will still want to kiss Levi when the peach fuzz on his face thickens. Though only if he keeps himself clean-shaven. Herman had once grown a moustache for a month, and Erwin had flatly refused to let that bristly mouth anywhere near any part of his anatomy until he'd shaved it off.

But that's still a few years off - Levi is only just beginning to reach sexual maturity. The hair on his legs is still downy, his genitals still small and neat. An erotic thrill races through Erwin at the mental image of Levi without his clothes - something he has still not yet seen.

Well, that's easily fixed. Before Levi leaves in the spring, Erwin will carry him to his bedroom, slowly undress him, and take him to bed. Whether Levi will _let_ Erwin carry him anywhere is dubious; but it makes a pleasant fantasy.

It's only dinner time when Erwin arrives at the barracks, but the winter sun set hours ago and the dark city is illuminated by flickering streetlamps and the open doorways of bars and restaurants. He can feel the chill in the air that means the weather is about to turn. The crowds get thicker as he wends his way through Mitras, and Alba has to take a slower pace as the Survey Corps' headquarters come into view.

He slides off her broad back and takes a moment to stroke her strong dapple-grey neck. She rolls one eye and starts to nose at his pockets in the hope of food. Erwin hands her off to an ostler instead, with instructions for her to be returned only to Instructor Susskind or somebody sent by him.

"Erwin!" That's Hertz's voice. He turns to find her waving at him vigorously while her other hand is occupied in stroking the muzzle of a small, sturdy - one might even say rotund - pony, of the type used to bear children and pull carts. Their stout bodies and thick coats make them ideally suited to tough winter work over difficult terrain, like in the mines in the north of Wall Rose. Hertz, Erwin knows, has a particular soft spot for them.

"Like velvet, that is," says Hertz with satisfaction. "Come on, let's go and eat. Not in the mess, for heaven's sake, let's be civilised. Mike and Nile and the rest want the Fox and Candle, so if you have any objections, lodge them now so I can completely ignore them."

"No objections at all," says Erwin mildly, and lets himself be dragged off to the café in question. He can hardly complain about the chance not to eat corps food.

Nile, Mike and Frieda greet them with raised steins. Erwin has to duck his head to keep from braining himself on the doorframe, but he raises his hand in greeting as Hertz ploughs a path through the other patrons.

"The man of the hour!" says Nile when Erwin and Hertz reach their table. He catches Erwin's eye and takes another draught. "Everybody's heard about your report to Dorfmann, by the way. Even Pixis over at the Garrison is talking about it."

"I am, of course, happy to serve the Military within and without the Walls," says Erwin with his best faux-modest oratorical inflection. Everybody sniggers, and Mike throws a walnut at him. Erwin catches it before it can strike his chest, and eats it with a wink.

"Erwin showing up the rest of us, as usual." Frieda leans back in her seat. "There's even been murmurs in the Military Police. I shan't repeat what Nicolas called you." Having met Frieda's fiancé, Erwin thinks he can guess the gist if not the exact words. The man uses 'fuck' and its derivatives like punctuation.

"So, where now?" asks Mike, from his shadowy corner - it looks like a Corpsman's desire to cover all exits, but Erwin suspects that it has a secondary purpose of giving him a decent excuse not to leave his seat to buy a round. "How long until you're in senior command?"

"That is, of course, up to the discretion of my superiors." Erwin accepts the stein that Hertz presses into his hand, having returned from her drinks-run. He takes a drink to hide his self-satisfied smirk. "But I'm aiming to make squad leader before I'm thirty."

Nile snorts. "Well, we all guessed _that_. You've always had the look of a man with ambition, Erwin." Erwin's father had once said something similar - but Erwin isn't going to mention that. He doesn't talk about his family except to let it be known that they're deceased, and his friends have the basic sense of propriety not to ask. He takes another drink instead.

"Speaking of ambitions, Nile, when are you going to get married?" Hertz breaks in. Nile goes instantly, delicately pink. Erwin's possible ambitions are promptly forgotten in the uproar.

Hours later, enjoying the temporary lack of military curfew, they all return to the barracks in a crowd, affectionately jostling each other over the rain-slick cobbles. Erwin and Mike split off from the other three to head to the Corps building with an amiable wave. Hertz and Frieda are leaning into each other in a way that suggests that Hertz might be getting an invite to Frieda and Nicolas' bed tonight - again. There really are so few true secrets among their friends; it's a wonder that Erwin has managed to keep his dealings with Levi quiet for so long.

"Do you and Levi think you're being discreet?" Mike asks. Erwin nearly loses his balance on the threshold.

"Levi and I...?" he repeats in as normal a tone as he can muster.

"The lessons, the tutoring. You training him up, playing the long game." Erwin feels like he could faint with relief. "Squad leader by thirty, no doubt - and he'll be right by your side." Mike's voice is only a murmur as they pass down the corridor towards the barracks, almost lost under the tread of their boots. "And when you aim higher than squad leader, he'll be right there to back you up."

"And how about you?" Erwin breathes. "In fifteen, twenty years - where will you be?"

He looks at Mike and finds a faint smile on his friend's face.

"In the grave or a Titan's belly, most likely. But if the wastes outside the Walls haven't claimed my body by then..." Mike squeezes his arm and they come to a halt. They've reached the turnoff for Mike's corridor. Erwin hadn't even noticed. "...Then I'll be where I am now. Right beside you."

Still smiling, Mike lets go of his arm, puts his hands casually in his pockets, and slouches off down his corridor. Erwin smiles at his retreating back in return. The dim glow of tiny oil-lamps makes the shadows dance and twist, but he watches Mike until he turns the corner. Then Erwin heads for his own bed.

He finds his door ajar. Light seeps through the crack. It's not the Military Police's style, nor that of any of his superiors. For one heart-stopping moment, he thinks it's Kenny Ackerman. He checks the knife in his boot and takes hold of the one up his sleeve - and pushes open the door.

And then he feels a complete fool, because Levi is sitting on his bed.


End file.
